


Recovery

by TheHeroesandVillains



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, F/M, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), scarlet vision - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-06-06 19:18:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6766594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHeroesandVillains/pseuds/TheHeroesandVillains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle of Sokovia, Scarlet Witch is left in a great deal of pain and confusion. She has now lost half of her heart and has never been alone before. Eventual Wanda x Vision</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So the instant Scarlet Witch and Vison looked at each other in Age of Ultron, I knew how much I shipped them, and that I had to write something. This was written nearly a year ago, but I never posted it to this site.

When Wanda bolted upright, she was out of breath and coated in a cold sweat. The bed she was lying in was shockingly unfamiliar, and she scrambled out of the covers as quickly as she could. She was halfway across the bed when she realised she was in her room in Stark’s Tower and nothing could possibly hurt her. 

She often woke up disorientated, but tonight she had slept into the early hours of the morning, which was rare. Her fatigue weighed her down, making her movements slow – as if she was trapped in a thick mud and had to wade through it in order to be safe. She also found her room unbearably hot, which meant that there was no way she would be able to fall asleep again. She decided to step into her bathroom, hoping to bring her temperature down with a splash of cold water. 

When she was done, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror and decided she looked pathetic – her eyes were outlined by dark circles, her lips were chapped from the terrible habit she had of biting them when she was deep in thought, and her skin was pale from staying inside all day. The last week had been tough on the team and although it had been 7 days since she had lost her twin, the pain had only lessened fractionally. The entire team, excluding Clint and Natasha (who had left the base almost as soon as they had arrived) avoided her when she did leave her room, which was only when she was hungry or when someone told her there was a meeting taking place. No one had tried to push her to do anything she didn’t want to do, and for that she was grateful, but the constant isolation was difficult for her considering from the moment she had been born, she had never been alone.

It was when her stomach growled, interrupting her thoughts, that she admitted defeat and decided to venture downstairs to the kitchen and grab something to eat. She hoped they would still have some of the chocolate she had tried last time she ate. It was a rich chocolate, nothing like anything she could have afforded back in Sokovia, that she could eat forever is she wanted to. It reminded her of a dish her mother used to cook when she was little, and it gave her a small comfort.

After wandering down the corridor and steps that were familiar to her by now, she emerged in the deserted kitchen, which was blissfully cool, contrasting with the warmth of her room. She revelled in the icy feeling of the tiled floor that greeted her as she approached the fridge. Welcoming the bitter taste of the chocolate as she popped a block into her mouth, she waited for it to melt on her tongue before exploring the contents of the fridge further. A large carton of orange juice, an apple, and a strawberry yoghurt all soon disappeared down her throat and her stomach quit its complaining. 

Unfortunately, the food gave her body an extra boost of energy and Wanda found she needed something to focus her mind on before she got too restless. She navigated her way towards the elevator and pressed a random floor, not caring where she ended up. A quiet ‘ping’ alerted her to her arrival at whichever floor she had selected and, to her surprise, she found herself emerging in the weapons facility. 

She hadn’t set foot inside the room since before they had faced Ultron. A familiar jacket draped over the bench in the centre of the room caught her eye and she froze. She didn’t need to be any closer to know it had white, triangular stripes running down the sleeves and red piping running along the seams, standing out like blood against the black of the material. It took her a while to unstick her feet from the floor and approach the item of clothing, but as soon as she did, she snatched it up and held it close to her, relieved it still smelt like him – of rain and the kind of mints he used to love to chew. 

She lowered herself onto the bench slowly, and when she adjusted her grip on the fabric, he felt a sharp point dig into her hand. Carefully, she straightened out the jacket and reached inside the pocket, not surprised when she felt a glossy object. When she pulled her hand out she saw the photo of her family, taken with a second hand camera her father had bought. It was worn, creased, and folded in so many places some parts of the picture were impossible to see. Her mother stood in the centre of the frame, a smiling 4 year old Wanda balanced on her hip, and next to her, her father with a smirking Pietro on his shoulders, trying to tug on his sister’s hair. They had been so happy that day – she remembered her dad returning home with the camera and a cake for them to share, after a particularly lucky day at the shoe shop. It had only survived the bombing because it had slipped down behind the bed weeks before the attack, and when the shell had fallen Pietro had stared at it for the entire time they were there. He had kept it with him ever since.   
Wanda had never been someone who cried very often and although the photo brought her great pain, her eyes remained dry.

It was when she was lost in thought that Vision had phased through the ceiling, evidently his room was positioned directly above the weapons room and it wasn’t until she had calmed herself down that she sensed the hum of his mind in the room. She had her back to him and he must have been hoping not to disturb her.

"I know you're there," she murmured, not making a move to turn around and face him, "Your mind is hard to miss in a silent room.”

Vision sighed, “I heard you moving down here," he told her, taking only one step closer, "I suppose neither of us will be getting much sleep tonight."

She turned to face him then, and it was the first time she had seen him since he rescued her from the falling city, "I don't suppose you’ve ever had a nightmare?" she asked, bringing the jacket closer to her body, as if it would protect her.

"I can't say I have," he replied, sensing her distress and striding forwards to hover near her, close to the bench.

She looked at him properly then, looked right into his bright green eyes, eyes that she had once feared would hold the same destruction she has seen in Ultron’s mind. Now, she only saw kindness, with innocence and great knowledge, which, admittedly, confused her a lot, “I have only ever used my gifts to give people nightmares. I never cared for how they felt, until last week, when the nightmares that haunt me are nobody’s fault but my own.” 

A look of hesitation crossed Vision’s face, before he sat down on the bench next to Wanda, “What nightmares do you suffer from?” he asked gently.

Wanda looked down at the photo in her hands and took a deep breath, “It’s the same dream every night. I’m under my bed, and I’m alone,” she started, tracing her finger around the image of her brother’s head, “There’s rubble everywhere and I look down at my hands, and I see a child’s hands. Stark’s shell is barely an arm’s length away I can hear a ringing in my ears. My lungs are screaming at me to let me cough the dust up that I’ve inhaled, but I’m too scared to move,” she paused, casting the photo to the side and drawing her knees up onto the bench and under her chin, “Pietro should be there, he should be next to me, but instead I can see his hand from under the collapsed table in the kitchen. Then his hand twitches, and he’s suddenly in my face, telling me it’s my fault he’s dead. My fault our parents hesitated before taking cover. And when I apologise, he turns into Ultron, leering at me, telling me he will find me, no matter where I hide. When I scream, he disappears, just before the bomb explodes, and I wake up.” 

By the time she was finished, her eyes were glassy and she could see the dream in front of her as clearly as if she really were dreaming. She turned her head to see Vision placing his hand on her shoulder awkwardly, unsure of what to do, but trying his best. She managed a weak smile in response – the first time she had smiled since her twin’s death.

“I wish I could help with the nightmares,” he told her sincerely, “But I think it will do you good to occupy your mind more during the day and throw yourself into Avenger activities.”  
She raised her eyebrow at him, “Like what? Party planning?” she asked bitterly. She had heard the rest of the Avengers celebrating the defeat of Ultron a couple of days after their return, and surprisingly, she hadn’t been in a partying mood.

“No, actually,” Vision ignored her flippant remark and Wanda felt guilty at snapping, “They’re planning to build another Avengers facility in the next couple of months.”

Sighing, she untucked her knees from below her chin, “I’m sorry,” she muttered – she had never liked apologies, “There was a time when I used to be kind and caring, but-”

“-but you were given a harsh deal in life,” he interrupted, giving her a look that meant he understood, “I may not be the most reliable source of information, but I still think you’re kind,” he told her with a small smile, “I just think you have thick walls because you’ve spent your life protecting yourself from the world.”

“You think I should trust people more?” she asked with a frown.

“I think you should give people an opportunity to earn your trust,” he replied simply.

Wanda smiled for the second time that night, “Well I think I already trust you,” she told him, “since you saved my life back in Sokovia.”

“I did, didn’t I?” he said. How could he forget? The moment was seared into his brain for reasons unknown to him, “I would be surprised if you didn’t trust me.”

Her eyebrows furrowed and Wanda regarded Vision thoughtfully, “Is that so?” she asked.

“I’ve felt you searching my mind throughout our conversation and I know you won’t have found anything that would cause distrust,” he calmly stated.

Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t appear to be embarrassed and Vision hadn’t expected her to be – it wasn’t in her nature.

“Your mind fascinates me. It’s so bright and pure, and it never stops. It’s like listening to a heartbeat, constantly there, and reassuring,” she admitted, and her eyes closed. “What does it feel like when I’m looking?”

Vision thought for a moment before replying, “I suppose it’s similar to the human sensation of tickling.”

Slowly Wanda withdrew from his mind and opened her eyes, Vision having made her feel guilty for the second time that night, “You should have told me it was uncomfortable.”

“I never said it was uncomfortable,” he told her, “It’s rather pleasant.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I have any idea how to describe it, the sensation is rather perplexing,” he said, a frown on his face that Wanda found highly amusing. She laughed for the first time in a very long time. Somehow Vision had made her feel more in the last five minutes than she had all week.

Involuntarily, her moth opened and a yawn broke free. The small chuckle that rose up in Vision’s throat disappeared in concern. “Should you be getting some more rest?” he asked, examining her eyes, “You are showing symptoms of extreme fatigue.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” she protested, even though her eyes were impossibly heavy, as they had been for a good while now.

Vision sighed, “You shouldn’t put your personal health at risk because you fear what you see when you close your eyes,” he warned her.

“You can talk,” she argued, “You’ve never had a nightmare.” But already she was visibly lacking in strength, “If you hear… If I… Wake me up,” she broke off, her head flopping down to lean gently on his arm as she fell into a heavy sleep.

In what was becoming a familiar position to the pair, Vision scooped the sleeping woman into his arms and phased them both through the ceiling and into his room. He laid her out on his bed, seeing as he had no idea where her room was at all, and stared out of the window at the city of New York. Although he had by no means met many people (since he had only been alive 8 days), he thought Wanda was the most intriguing and complex person he had come across, and he had a feeling that no matter how many people he met, his opinion wouldn’t change.


	2. Comfort

Meetings in the tower didn’t have the same level or formality as you would imagine and were typically held over breakfast in the kitchen now that SHEILD had given them a little slack. It was the time of day that everyone was in their best mind-set and not exhausted from either training or developmental work. The team’s objectives and issues were discussed whilst everyone was settled with some kind of meal (that being said Vision wasn’t sure a mountain of pop tarts counted as a real meal).

The meetings were known for being laidback and having fallen into a routine over the past week, Vision entered the kitchen expecting to contribute to that particular morning’s calm debate. The sight that met him, however, had Vision immediately on edge. Steve was standing, an empty plate discarded behind him on the counter, concern etched into his forehead like pavement cracks and shoulders stretched out defensively. “I don’t think we should leave this unchecked,” he was saying mostly to Tony, “I know a doctor who-”

“No Shrinks,” Tony insisted from where he was perched on a worktop as he narrowed his eyes at Steve, “I can tell you now, they won’t help. You can’t have some guy tell you what you do and don’t feel-”

“And who are you to say how a psychiatrist will make anyone feel?” The soldier cut back. A challenge.

Vision didn’t have much experience, but knew that the situation would be best diffused with a little logic. He had the perfect argument. “I should think that given his experiences with post-traumatic stress disorder Mr Stark is at liberty to express his concerns and knows a great deal about losing loved ones at a very young age after his parents’ car accid…” he trailed off, noting the expressions of shock and dismay on his teammates’ faces. “Did I say something wrong?”

His question was left hanging in the suddenly thick air. Tony refused to meet his creation’s gaze and the worry lines painted into his features had deepened. Thor looked slightly uncomfortable from where he was sitting at the kitchen table, tentatively inspecting one of the four plates surrounding him for any other remains from breakfast. Sam and Rhodey stood together, both watching, having not reacted with the same level of shock. Evidently, Rhodey was close enough to Tony to have been confided in and Sam was experienced enough in mental health to have guessed the truth.

“I can see I have said the wrong thing,” he muttered, “I should go find-”

Tony held up his hand, adopting a neutral expression. “No. You weren’t to know. This is something you can help us with.” The inventor took a deep breath, calm externally but his eyes betrayed his internal struggle. “Obviously you know my views on the matter. I was brought back by Pepper and a variety of other things. Not by a Shrink who thought they knew what I was going through.” Keeping his head high, he met Steve’s gaze. “It won’t help her.”

Clearing his throat, Steve spoke in a much softer voice. “Everyone’s different, Stark-”

Sam stepped forward, silencing Tony’s immediate response. “I think we should give Wanda another week,” he said. “She might surprise you.”

No one spoke further, and the meeting was dismissed.

* * *

When Wanda was pulled from the midst of her regular nightmare, her sleep addled mind thought an minor earthquake was shaking her from her slumber. It took her a minute, but she eventually realised it was an arm that was gently shaking her, not a natural disaster. After her eyes had adjusted to the sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains, she was met with the sight of Sam Wilson perching on the edge of the bed. Obviously he’d seen her distress and woken her.  


For a moment she was irritated – she didn’t like the idea of anyone thinking she was capable of being so pathetic – then she remembered the events of the last week and she knew that any perception of strength the other avengers had of her would be non-existent.   
  
Besides, she didn’t have the energy to be flustered.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, before retreating into the comfort of the duvet in an attempt to ignore the glow of morning light illuminating the room through a gap in the curtains. She took comfort in the familiar smell that clung to the pillow she was resting on.

“Vision asked me to check on you.” he said, casting his gaze over the room. “Is there a particular reason you’re in his bed?”

Wanda barely reacted. She had assumed he would take her to her own bed but such a logical mind would chose the room that was closer. At least it explained the exotic smell. “I didn’t realise. All these rooms look the same to me.”

The android’s room was a mirror image of hers; white walls, soft cream carpet and a wide window hidden behind heavy crimson curtains. It reminded her of a luxury hotel room and she couldn’t stand it. For someone who had such a large personality, Stark’s idea of interior design was lacking in character.

After the events of the last week, Wanda had no idea what to think of Tony Stark. Meeting him had been a surreal experience because it had shattered the image of a cold, cruel man she had built up for years. It was so much more difficult to hate someone that just saved the human race from extinction.

Sam’s smile fell at her expression. “We’re all worried about how you’re coping with everything. Now I do have experience in dealing with soldiers who-”

Wanda’s eyes flashed as she cut the paratrooper off. “Don’t patronise me. You think the experiences of a few soldiers match what I’m going through? I felt the life leave his body – felt his mind _die_. Next time you want to lecture me about my feelings, you can think again.”

“No matter how it happened, it’s still the same problem – loss. Every single member of this team has lost someone, sometimes even themselves and we’ve all reacted differently. The others want to leave you alone but I know that you’ve had enough time stewing.” He stood up and pulled the curtains wide. “Today we’re going to start organising what the new Avengers facility will need. I highly recommend you join us – no matter how comfortable you feel shut up in your room, delaying interacting with the rest of the team will only make it more difficult when you actually get around to doing it.”

Wanda slowly removed her head from under the duvet, just managing to glimpse Sam leave the room before the sound of the door closing punctuated his abrupt departure. Hesitantly, Wanda dangled her legs over the edge of the bed and eased her bare feet into the carpet, wriggling her toes in the stiff strands of fabric. She had always loved sleeping until the late hours of the morning and Pietro always used to burst into her room to pull her from the warmth of her bed by her ankles, depositing her on the floor. He always made a hasty retreat, afraid of facing his sister’s wrath and she always used to get him back by launching pillows at his retreating figure.

She’d sell her soul to wake up like that one last time.

* * *

It seemed like only a second had passed when Wanda found herself crossing the threshold of her own room, her mind on autopilot and barely remembering the journey from Vision’s room. She considered herself lucky that she failed to bump into anyone on her way and quietly shut the door behind her, sliding the lock home.  


With her back pressed against the door, she stared out the window at the city of New York, illuminated by the rising golden sun. The view was so clear she could trace every pathway below if she wanted to, but instead she turned her back on the sight. For the people of the world, life was being carried out as normal and Wanda wasn’t quite ready to face that yet.  

With the utmost care, she untucked her brother’s jacket from below her arm and delicately removed the photograph from the pocket. After the jacket was folded neatly and paced on her bedside cabinet, she balanced the photograph on top of the black fabric, wary of creasing it. The soft morning light cast a reflection on the picture, making it look like her brother had a halo. Maybe it was just a coincidence (Wanda had never really been religious) but Wanda stepped into the shower with a new determination to get back on track.

Sam’s words had also had an impact on her and reluctantly, she found herself agreeing as she mulled over what he had said. It was time to work things through, starting with her heath. Today’s goal was to eat a substantial meal and to possibly interact with the other Avengers.

As she dried herself off and got dressed, her mind started to clear. She fumbled with her shirt buttons as she became aware of a chaotic presence above. She paused, locating the troubled mind on the roof at the very top of the tower. Confusion was washing over her in waves and as Wanda laced up her boots, she decided to investigate the source of the mental cyclone.

Stepping into the elevator, Wanda could also sense other minds surrounding her and whilst ascended, she picked up on a variety of overpowering emotions. _Longing. Concern. Hope. Frustration._ It was like a soup with too many flavours.

When she reached the roof, she wasn’t surprised to see Vision standing at the edge of the building, staring at civilisation below. There was only one mind she could think that was strong enough to carry down several floors to where she was getting dressed.

The ping of the elevator alerted him to her presence and if he was startled by her appearance behind him, he didn’t let on.

“I’m sorry. Was I thinking too loud?” His voice was soft and glided to her through the wind.

“A little,” she confessed.

“It’s fascinating,” he observed, “I find the chaos below beautiful in its complexity and the simplicity of technology cold and unwelcoming. Why is it that something that is designed to be perfect can be capable of doing wrong?”

She let the question hang in the air for a while, catching glimpses of his thoughts. “You’re trying to find yourself,” she finally stated, inching closer to where he was stood.

He looked surprised for a moment, before his eyes lowered to stare at the droplets of water running from her hair, down her shoulder, onto the floor. “I have a wealth of knowledge available to me, yet I still make mistakes. If I have knowledge what could I possibly hope to learn that is right?” he questioned, avoiding her gaze.

Wanda’s reply was quiet but still held conviction. “Because sometimes we have to let our hearts dictate things, not our minds.”

Vision met her gaze then, “I assume you are talking metaphorically,” he said, unable to conceal his grin.

She smiled weakly and laughed lightly. “I could push you off this building you know,” she joked.

“You seem to have forgotten that I am capable of airborne manoeuvres,” he hit back.

Before she could respond with a witty comment of her own, Wanda’s stomach growled aggressively.

With a frown, Vision asked, “When was the last time you ate?”

At her noncommittal shrug, he reached out, grabbed her arm, and suddenly they were dropping through Stark tower floor by floor, each room blurring past as they dropped like stones. When they came to a sudden stop in an empty kitchen, Wanda’s heart was racing and she was breathless.

“Wow. That was...” Wanda trailed off, searching for the right word.

“Efficient?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of jarring.”

They fell into a comfortable silence then, Wanda lost in her own thoughts, trying to puzzle out the android behind her whilst searching the cupboards for a cereal she had seen before during her midnight snacks. As she grabbed two bowls, one for both her and her brother, she tried to get a reading of Vison’s mind. It took a while, but by the time she was finished with two bowels of cereal in her hand, she felt Vision’s mind was a lot calmer than it had once been.

She took a seat, “I have breakfast for you Pietr-” she choked on her words as her airway closed up. _How could she forget?_ Her brother was gone and she would never see him again.

She glanced down at her hands, which were shaking in front of her. The more emotion she felt, the worse the shaking began and when her vision started to blur, she scrunched her eyes closed. Memories of her brother unwillingly filled her mind until she felt like she was experiencing her death all over again. In the back of her mind, she heard someone calling her name along with the sound of porcelain cracking. As her lib trembled, she felt red energy building up inside her and she gasped for air, the sound of glass shattering pierced through her mind.

Without warning, a tenderness wrapped itself around her mind like a blanket, soothing her defences until she let her walls down, allowing the comfort to seep into her thoughts. Images of her brother were replaced by colors that came and went like the movement of the tide. As she relaxed her shoulders, strong arms embraced her, trying to still her shaking.

It was all too much and with a sob, Wanda released the unshed tears that had been bottled up all day. “I want him back,” she whispered into Vision’s shoulder.

“I know,” was all he needed to say.

They made quite a pair – one trying too hard to have emotions, and the other trying too hard to suppress them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure if I like this chapter… I hope you guys realised that although Wanda started to behave more confidently, it was all a front. She really is trying though!  
> I’m terrified this is OOC and rushed and it’s really not my best work so please let me know what you think.  
> Till next time!


End file.
